As I mentioned before, I had some annoyingly starstruck moments at the conference. I am pretty sure Brenda Novak has a restraining order out on me, and there are a couple of others that probably think I am of the "short bus variety", though I am just basing that information on how stupid I was when I talked to them. On a scale of one to ten, I averaged about a 7.5, and that's pretty darn stupid, if you ask me. And since this is my blog, you've asked me.
Ok, so I also met Liza Palmer. Now, before I go on...I just have to say, I met this girl, and immediately wanted to be her best friend. No offense to my current friends, because if they'd met her, they would have immediately wanted to be her friend, too. She is hilarious. Did you see that? I italicized and put it in bold letters. She rules. She had me in stitches when I spoke to her at the book fair, and she had me cracking up and begging for mercy on Sunday morning in the workshop she co-led.
Now, when I think of an author, I picture them to look like one of the agents I pitched to. Saggy, expensive sweaters and shawls. Short, cropped hair sprinkled with salt and pepper, even if they're in their 20's, because it just looks intelligent and cool. Maybe a slight New York accent, even if they were raised in Indiana, but mainly because it just suits the character in my head. Always gripping a mangled composition notebook and a cup of coffee. Black.
But no! Some of these women were completely normal. Some were silly and funny and shaped (physically) like me. I loved those women best. And some were long and lanky and geeky. Some were wildly beautiful, with perfectly coiffed hair. And some were so sucked into their characters worlds that they wore period costumes and oozed sexual innuendo, etc. I primarily stayed away from those types, only because (for some odd reason) I would get the uncontrollable giggles around them, and usually came across as even more crazy than I actually am. But I can't look at some woman's heaving bosom in a period costume while she is toting a laptop and a starbucks cup without snickering. Call me a child. I know. But that's me...and this is my blog. So shut up.
But, I digress...
So anyway, Liza Palmer has written some good stuff. Really good. A Field Guide to Burying Your Parents
, Seeing Me Naked
,Conversations with the Fat Girl
.....just to name a few. I will be reviewing them all soon, for those (very) few who listen to my ramblings about books I've read, but in the meantime, get them. Read them. Live them. I beg of you.So anyway, I became exceptionally enamored with Liza Palmer, so when I came home, I asked her to be my Facebook friend, and sent her a meeting thanking her for her workshop, and for talking to me at the book fair, etc. And guess what? She totally remembered me!! Yup. ME. With my stack of books, and my giddy "conference virgin" look across my face...she remembered talking to me. And she added me to her friends. Oh, and then, she commented on my page!
No, I am not lying. Go see for yourself!
It was very, very cool. The thing is, authors are humans, too. They come in all shapes and sizes and personalities and colors...they are people. Like me. In fact, I pitched with a published author! And her book sounded so great that I asked her afterward if I could exchange information with her and read her work (Ok, seriously...the book she pitched sounded cool. It was right up my ally, and I am bent out of shape and shocked that the agent turned it down. It sounded like a gold mine, but then, so does my book, and she suggested I change it beyond recognition, so what does she know, right? Whatever. She's the agent. She knows what sells, that's what she knows). She said yes, and took my card...and then, hours later, there she was...signing books at the book fair...one of which was a book that I'd seen for sale on Amazon at least a dozen times! And I'd been toying with buying it!
I felt like a moron.
"Um, hello published author. Will you exchange chapters with a lowly, unpublished peon like me, so that you can read my totally unpolished work, and I can read that kick azz book you pitched to the agent who turned down what I am sure was an amazing book about weddings, which is what I love love love to read about. In fact, I can just leave my book at home, and read yours because you don't want to trouble yourself with my crap, you just need to let me read yours. Please? Please?"
I asked her to be my Facebook friend, too. She said yes, and didn't seem to mind that I asked to read her book. P.S. I still want to read it. I know you're more successful than me, but I really, really want to read it. It sounded fun and right up my ally.
Sometimes I am just too much of a geek for public consumption. But, authors are humans, too.
Brooke Moss.
